


Claws and Scales, and Flying Monkey Tails

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome Phil Coulson, Clint Needs a Hug, Fluff, Imagine your OTP, M/M, Minific, Pheels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minific response to the Imagine your OTP Prompt: <i>Imagine Person B of your OTP going through a horrible transformation because of magic, and now they’re a weird supernatural creature of some kind, though still human inside. They’re worried Person A will freak out when they show them, but instead Person A just kisses them and tells them they love them for who they really are, no matter what they look like now.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Claws and Scales, and Flying Monkey Tails

**Author's Note:**

> X-posted on [my tumblr](http://msraven929.tumblr.com/) and I thought it was interesting enough to post here. Not beta'd.
> 
> For the "character in distress" square on my trope_bingo card.

Clint hated magic. They couldn’t even blame Loki this time. It was some random woman who imagined herself a witch and was playing with things better left alone. 

Now Clint was…well…he had no fucking clue what he was. In the one brief glance he caught of himself - before everyone made a point of keeping anything reflective away from him - Clint thought he looked like a flying monkey from the Wizard of Oz, but with scales and claws that took any possible cuteness away from the image. Plus, judging by how everyone winced and immediately tried to hold their breath around him, Clint was pretty sure he stunk. 

At least Thor and the doctors were confident that this transformation would fade on its own. The doctors said that the toxin in the witch’s potion was already starting to break down and Thor promised that he’d encountered similar things that were never permanent. Problem was, nobody could give him a timeline. He could be stuck like this for years for all they seemed to understand about it.

Clint curled into a tighter ball, huddled in the darkest corner of his room, and sighed. He really, really hated magic.

There were only three good things about this situation: 1) Steve had finally stopped apologizing for Clint pushing him out of the way of the potion, 2) JARVIS liked Clint well enough to keep everyone locked out of his suite if Clint promised to eat and stay out of the vents, and 3) Phil was on a month-long op in Brazil.

But since life was never that easy on Clint and there was nobody JARVIS liked more than Phil, he heard the elevator doors slide open and familiar footsteps moving toward the bedroom. Clint did the only thing he could think of - he dove under the bed.

"Clint?" Phil called out.

"You’re supposed to be in Brazil," Clint said, not caring that he sounded like a petulant child. He was a fucking scaly, flying monkey - he had the right to pout.

Phil’s face appeared at the foot of the bed and Clint scuttled as far back as he could, hoping that the shadows under the bed were enough to hide him.

"Heavy rains and flooding," Phil responded calmly. "Op was cancelled. I heard what happened. Are you coming out?"

"No!"

"The doctors are estimating a week, maybe two," Phil told him. "You can’t spend two weeks under the bed."

"Yes I can," Clint replied stubbornly.

"Clint…"

"I stink and I’m fucking hideous. I…I can’t. I don’t want you to see me like this. _Please_ , Phil,” Clint pleaded.

"Clint," Phil said patiently, "Do you think so little of me that you believe your appearance will impact how much I love you? You’re stressed and you’re scared. The only thing I can do to help is comfort you. Will you let me?"

Phil reached a hand under the bed, palm up, and Clint, never able to deny Phil anything, put a clawed hand into it and let himself be pulled out from under the bed. Clint tried to shy away from the light coming in from the window, but Phil wrapped a strong arm around him and kept him close. Clint still refused to look at the older man and Phil placed a gentle, but firm hand on the archer’s cheek to turn his face toward him. 

Clint wasn’t a big enough coward to close his eyes, so he met Phil’s gaze steadily and was surprised to find nothing except loving concern. Phil leaned forward and brushed soft lips against Clint’s now hard-skinned ones.

"No matter the shell," Phil whispered, followed by another brush of his lips against Clint’s cheeks and then his forehead, "it is still you inside. The man I fell in love with, the man I love, the man I will always love. This magic will fade, but even if it doesn’t, it would never change how I feel about you. I promise you that I will always, always find the real you."

The stress from the past few days came crashing down on Clint and he collapsed, exhausted, against Phil’s chest. Phil tightened his hold and Clint let the older man drag them up and onto the bed.

As the last rays of sunlight faded from the windows, the two men clung tightly to one another, confident that they’d face whatever the next day brought together.

"I love you, Phil."

"I love you too, Clint."

_fin_


End file.
